


French

by cornflakes_canvas



Series: Just Say The Word [3]
Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Français | French, M/M, Quotations, References to Depression, Road Trips, Skinny Dipping, TV News
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 17:30:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12964659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornflakes_canvas/pseuds/cornflakes_canvas
Summary: Pour comprendre le monde, il faut parfois se détourner.





	French

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was "French" and I'm not sure how this happened, but it's almost like a Glory/World Gone Mad crossover of sorts.  
> It addresses current news and all the fucked up shit that's happening around the world. Read with caution if stuff like that might make you feel down.  
> And please look after yourselves and each other <3

_Pour comprendre le monde, il faut parfois se détourner._

 

“In order to understand the world, one has to turn away from it on occasion.”

 

 

_\- Albert Camus_

 

 

 

Usually, when awful things happen these days, all that Dan needs in order to keep going is a night of drinking himself senseless with his friends. As much as it pains him to admit it, he has gotten used to the pictures of horror, the graphic violence, the political stupidity and the feeling of utter disbelief that weighs down on his heart every time he watches the news.

He sees them in others as well, the varying coping strategies, the willingness to show charity in the face of guilt, calming one's consciousness only to turn around and blame others when the world is still a shit place.

 

Dan knows he's being unfair. He knows that many people do their best, do what they can. But this is _his_ coping mechanism. Pretending the world is a place invaded by hypocrites and liars is somehow easier than putting false hope into those he knows to be kind-hearted and good.

He can't bear to _believe_ , only to see his last spark of faith trodden into the ashes as the remains of rightness perish in the fire of the corrupt.

 

Kyle understands. He has known Dan for a majority of the almost twenty years he has lived on this godforsaken planet and he accepts that Dan refuses to see the blinding white that stands opposite the smothering black, recognises his way of feeling everything in shades of washed-out grey.

He'll never stop trying to make Dan see the good in the world. And Dan wants to be grateful, but he's terrified that Kyle will succeed in guiding him into the hopefulness that builds the fundamentals of his own mind, only to be forced to watch it crumble around his friend, burying him underneath.

 

It's late evening and Dan sits at the large table in his parents' kitchen, withering in the suffocating heat of the fading midsummer day. The sliding door leading into the small garden is wide open, a vain attempt at luring a relieving breeze into the house, but the air stays unmoving and Dan feels like he shouldn't be able to breathe the thick haze that surrounds and envelops him like a hot embrace.

 

Another day filled with terrible news, another attack brutally ripping apart families that will never be the same, doomed to be forgotten in the face of royal weddings and celebrity fashion faux-pas. Another twenty-four hours on a planet that has to endure the so-called leadership of people who should be imprisoned for making decisions that destroy the existence of millions.

 

Dan sends Kyle a text, merely three words.

_I need you_

A plea, a desperate cry for someone to help him understand why he feels so empty, forced to stand by and watch as the world shatters around him.

 

Kyle replies right away.

_on my way. we're leaving_

 

The younger man arrives ten minutes later with a bang, stumbling into the room through the sliding door after presumably surmounting the garden hedge, shouting, “Get your stuff, Daniel, we're going on a trip!”

 

This is one of the many things Dan likes about Kyle. He always knows when Dan is having a bad day, can see it or sense it, but he doesn't act like he's walking on eggshells, doesn't give Dan a patronising pat on the back or look at him like he's a wounded animal. Because he knows it's not what Dan needs.

 

The taller boy takes one look at his friend, grabs his arm and pulls him up off the seat and out into the corridor, snatching his Converse and a hoodie he most probably won't be needing anytime soon on the way out and letting the front door fall shut behind them with a thud.

 

They sit in Kyle's crappy car with the seats that are hard and worn out from use, the speakers that emit an uncomfortably tinny sound and the broken air conditioning that means they'll be exposed to the full extent of the unbearable heat radiating off the rusty metal, and Kyle drops Dan's mud-caked shoes in his lap, starting the engine as Dan puts them on lethargically.

 

They drive for hours. Dan falls asleep at some point, with his cheek pressed against the seat, his forehead leaving a mark on the soothingly cold window.

He hasn't said more than a dozen words since they left the stuffy confines of his mum's kitchen, only listening to (and occasionally commenting on) Kyle's continuous talking and watching as the younger man drums his fingers on the steering wheel to whatever song is being played on the radio.

 

Dan finally awakes to Kyle pinching his cheek lightly and he blinks his eyes open to see his best friend crouched in front of him. Dan sits up slightly and rubs a hand over his face, looking around the concrete car park they're stood in. It's pitch-dark, he can hear crickets in the surrounding shrubbery and it's still very hot, albeit slightly more tolerable now.

 

He climbs out of the car, stretching and peeling his soaked T-shirt off his back with a grimace, shooting Kyle a questioning look when he sees the mischief in the brown, sparkling eyes.

Kyle rubs his hands together excitedly, then surges forward and kisses Dan square on the mouth, before taking his hand and yanking him towards the large building complex to their right, slightly hidden behind tall trees.

 

They reach a wobbly metal fence and Kyle helps Dan clamber over it, then somehow makes it to the other side as well, gratefully accepting Dan's steadying hands. The younger boy smiles conspiratorially and leads the way through the short grass and towards an ominous, unsteady source of light in the distance.

 

Dan stares open-mouthed and can't help a small smile appearing on his face when the large swimming pool comes into view, the small circular lamps at the bottom of the concrete bowl radiating a warmth that dances across the water and casts specks of gold onto everything that surrounds them – the trees that stand looming in the still night, the small kiosk to their left with a poster advertising fifteen different types of ice-cream, and Kyle's excited face. His eyes are daring Dan to scold him for breaking into this place, his cheeks are flushed, sweat glistens on his brow, and the older boy wants nothing more than to mimic his friend's unpredicted move and kiss those amazing lips.

 

But before Dan can gather enough courage to do what he wants to so badly, Kyle grins and pulls his T-shirt over his head in a swift motion, dropping it in the grass. His belt follows shortly after, then his shoes and socks, jeans and boxers, until he stands naked in front of Dan, smiling as he raises a hand and caresses the blue-eyed boy's cheek before stepping to his left and jumping into the sparkling depths of the pool.

 

He resurfaces with a shake of his head, stretching his arms out to stay afloat and looking at Dan expectantly.

The older boy hesitates, stares at the slight ripples caused by Kyle's movements, lets the smoothness and clearness of the water wash over his tired mind. He closes his eyes, can still see the spots of light floating in front of him, and he breathes deeply and gazes up at the firmament and the millions of stars above them reflecting the sparks below.

 

The world is fucked up. It is broken, irreparably, its inhabitants largely ungrateful and blind and careless with the steps they take on the beautiful planet. People suffer every day for too many reasons and starvation and sickness and cruelty will never stop.

 

But right now, in this moment, when Dan looks at Kyle, he is thankful for the smallest glimpse of relief, the flash of calmness that he knows his mind will feed off to ensure his survival when the demons inevitably return to gnaw away at his sanity.

And Dan holds his breath and sheds his clothes quickly, throwing them on top of Kyle's before he eases himself down into the water, dipping his head underneath the surface and letting the swimming lights confuse his eyes.

He comes back up with a satisfied gasp and pushes his wet hair off his forehead, and Kyle is right there, right in front of him. He smiles, holds Dan's face between his warm hands and kisses him slowly.

 

They drive home in the early hours of the morning, after a short nap in the uncomfortable back seat of the car. The radio is dead silent and Dan watches the scenery he slept through the previous night pass them by, the fields and houses and trees, the few people that are up early to walk their dogs or go for a jog as long as the heat is still bearable. He sees his reflection in the wing mirror, the shadows around his eyes, the complete mess on top of his head, the hint of a smile on his tired face.

 

It's quiet and Kyle reaches between them, takes Dan's hand and gives it a squeeze. He clears his throat.

“I know you feel kinda down right now and I know you wish you had the courage to just … give up. And maybe the world wouldn't be empty without you, but _my life_ sure as hell would be.”

 

Dan doesn't say anything, just looks at Kyle who stares at the road ahead of them, his jaw clenched tight. His voice is barely more than a whisper when he continues.

“You're not weak cause you feel hopeless, you know? You're strong. For staying alive and asking for help. That's what you need to remember. You haven't given up. There's something inside you that's more powerful than all this … darkness.”

 

Dan gazes at the sky that stretches out far and wide above them, the soft clouds, the soothing shades of peach.

He knows that awful things will continue to happen around them, but he can get through it. He _wants_ to get through it and stick around for the good bits.

He wants to remember this day, this night, whenever he feels like it's too much, wants to remember the heat of the summer, the smooth water, the feeling of Kyle's hands on his skin and their lips moving to the beat of their hearts, the calming vastness of fields and dark skies.

 

“Don't give up, Dan. No matter what happens. You're too strong to be defeated.”

 

 

 

The famous French philosopher Albert Camus once wrote:

 

_Dans la profondeur de l'hiver, j'ai finalement appris qu'il y avait en moi un soleil invincible._

 

“In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”

 


End file.
